Guide Me Home (31 page)

Tolly blinked, his eyes fixed on her face. “You thinkin' you's in love wit' him?”

“I don't know. But I feel more deeply for him than anyone ever before.” She hung her head. “If this is love, I'm not sure why poets write about it. It isn't nearly as beautiful as it is painful and confusing.”

“Mebbe 'cause you's feelin' it fo' the wrong puhson.”

She frowned. Shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tolly stayed quiet for a few seconds, working his lips back and forth. Then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I's thinkin' it's a good thing you's stayin' abovegroun' while he's goin' in the cave. Time apart'll give you time to get yo' feelin's straightened out again.”

Rebekah nodded sadly.

“Bettuh yet, since we ain't runnin' tours tomorruh, mebbe you should go home, talk to yo' mammy 'bout Cal an' Devlin an' which o' the two makes mo' sense fo' you. Reckon she could advise you bettuh than this ol' man who ain't nevuh done no courtin'.”

Awareness jolted her. “If there aren't any tours tomorrow, will the guides still be paid? I—I need every penny of what I'm earning.”

Tolly straightened. “Ain't yo' fault the rain's comin' down. You's drawin' a salary, Reb. You's goin' get ever' bit o' yo' twelve dollahs at the end o' the month.”

She blew out a breath, her spine collapsing again.

He shook his head, chuckling. “I think you's needin' a rest, gal. Yo' mind's so cluttuhed up you cain't think straight.”

She managed to corral her thoughts well enough to form another question. “How many months will I be able to work here, Tolly?”

He scratched his cheek. “If you don't choose courtin' ovuh earnin' a wage, the tours'll go 'til end o' Septembuh, middle o' Octobuh. Depends on how quick the cold sweeps in.”

A sigh heaved from her lungs. “Oh, good.” In six months she'd earn over seventy dollars. “I'll be able to buy Andy's headstone for sure.”

Tolly put up his hands, frowning. “I thought you was buyin' a stone fo' yo' sick mama. Ain't that what you tol' me when you come lookin' fo' a job?”

She nodded. “It is for Mama. She wants a headstone for Andy so badly it's making her sick inside.” Tears welled, stinging her eyes. “She can't set aside her mourning until his grave has a marker that will last. That's why I'm working here. To buy a stone for Andy. And to help Daddy put a fence around our cemetery. He called it his legacy.”

“If it's his legacy, how come you's the one earnin' the money fo' it?”

What would Tolly say if she told him the truth? She pushed the words past her dry throat. “Because I sent Andy off to the cave. I was mad at him. I was trying to read, and he wouldn't leave me alone, so I told him to get lost. And he did.”

“You tol' him to go get hisself lost in the cave?”

Agony writhed through her. “I didn't mean for him to. But he did. And he…he never came back home.” She swallowed, another wave of sadness rolling through her. “I've never taken one single book from the library wagon for my own pleasure since then, either.”

For long, silent seconds Tolly gazed at her without speaking. Then he rose, unfolding his joints so slowly he resembled a flower opening its petals. “So you's sacrificin' yo'self to appease yo' guilt?”

She gulped. “I…I…”

He slid his hands into his pockets and drew in a breath that expanded his chest. “I know lots about appeasement. Hired you on here to appease my guilt ovuh leavin' yo' family short one son. Been keepin' a close watch on you out o' a sense o' appeasement, fearful o' owin' yet anothuh debt to yo' folks.”

Conflicting emotions roared through Rebekah's chest—appreciation for his concern, amazement that he, too, carried guilt over Andy's death, and em-barrassment that he'd hired her not because he found her worthy of the task but because he'd discovered a way to pay a debt. A debt he didn't owe. “Tolly, you—”

“Lemme ask ya somethin', Reb. Wouldja have took this job if you didn't feel guilty 'bout yo' brothuh dyin' in the cave? Wouldja have spent yo' hours some othuh way if Andy was still livin'?”

She chewed her lip, unwilling to explore how things would be different if Andy were alive.

“Befo' you give up makin' a future o' yo' own, give some good thought to what you's doin'. Sacrifice is a hon'rable thing unless it's done fo' the wrong reasons.” He turned to the doorway and his face lit. “Why, lookee there. The rain done stopped while we was talkin'. Clouds're clearin'. Oughta have sunshine tomorruh. That's good. That's real good.” He bobbed a grin in her direction and ambled out the door.

Rebekah crossed to the threshold and peered out at the gray, water-soaked landscape. It would take more than one day of sunshine to dry up the effects of the rainstorm. And it would take more than one day of sunshine to chase away the dark blot of guilt binding her spirit.

She gulped back a sob and whispered, “Andy can't ever come back. Will a headstone really make things better?”

Cissy

T
he rain finally stopped but not before she'd gotten as wet as if she'd taken a dip in the creek. Cissy huddled in the stall with Beau, shivering and waiting for Nick. He'd promised, so she knew he'd be there. She hoped she'd be dry by the time he came. Otherwise he might be so put off by her soggy appearance he'd never want to set eyes on her again.

She curled on the clean hay, knees drawn up and arms folded over her ribs. The smell of hay and moist earth filled her nose—a sweet smell. Beau munched from his feedbox, the
crunch-crunch
as steady as the tick of a clock pendulum. As she listened to it, Cissy's eyelids grew heavy, heavy, and slid closed. When a warm palm cupped her jaw, she gave a shriek and scrambled to escape.

Nick sat on his haunches in front of her and laughed.

This time she didn't much like the sound of his laughter. Her pulse still pounding, she plastered herself to the stall wall and glared at him. “You like to scared me outta ten years' growth. Why'd you sneak up on me that way?”

He stretched to his feet, still grinning. “I didn't sneak. And I said your name twice before I touched you. You were deeply asleep.”

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

“Six?” She bolted to her feet and plunked her fists on her hips. “You were s'posed to meet me at five. I was gonna head for home by six.”

Nick's grin faded to a frown. He scratched Beau's ears. “I had to finish my chess game with my father. He and I play every Sunday afternoon.”

If she didn't make it back by dark and the little girls told Mama and Daddy she was missing, she'd get a whipping for sure this time. She scowled and tossed her braids over her shoulders. “Ain't you a little old to be playing games with your daddy?”

He took a step out of the stall. “Look, Cissy, if all you're going to do is grumble, I'll return to my cabin and—”

She flew at him and grabbed his arm. “No. Don't go. I'm sorry.” She put on her best begging face. “I'm always a little cranky when I first wake up.”

He raised one eyebrow. “A little?”

She tittered. He was teasing now. “Well, maybe more'n a little. It's just that I got all wet comin' over here—”

His gaze roved from her head to her bare toes and up again.

“—an' then I waited so long for you that I fell asleep.” She hugged herself. “I was lonely. An' sad. An' it all came out wrong.”

A slow smile grew on his cheek. “All right, Cissy. I forgive you.”

She beamed at him.

He chuckled, looking her up and down again. “And you really are a mess.” He began plucking little bits of hay from her hair while she slapped at the wrinkles in her damp dress. “I planned to introduce you to my parents today, but—”

“Your parents?” If he wanted to show her off to his folks, he must really like her.

“Yes, but I think it's best to wait until you aren't so disheveled.” He shook his head. “The next time you decide to take an afternoon nap, I hope you choose some place other than a burro's stall. You look a sight and smell awful.”

“Nick!” She slapped his chest. “That ain't nice.”

“Well, you ain't smellin' nice.”

He grinned. She grinned. They both laughed.

Then he blew out a rueful breath. “My parents expect me for dinner at six thirty, so I can't stay.”

“Aw, but, Nick…”

He touched her chin with his knuckles. “You should head home, anyway. Get yourself out of those wet clothes and warm up. I wouldn't want you to come down with a cold.”

Her heart expanded. He was so thoughtful.

“My brother and I are going to hike with a few other fellows tomorrow morning, but our afternoon tour has been canceled because of the rain. I'll have the whole afternoon free if you want to meet at the end of your shift.”

She nodded eagerly. “Sure. Right here?”

“Right here.” He pointed to the spot of ground between them.

She giggled. From now on, every time she stepped over that patch of ground, she'd think of Nick. “All right. See you tomorrow.” She tipped her head, fluttering her eyelashes. “An' Tuesday? An' Wednesday? An'—”

“Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.” He grinned, winked, and ambled out of the barn in his easy, confident gait.

Cissy released a little squeal of happiness. “He wants to see me every day, Beau!” She smacked a kiss between the burro's eyes and then ran the whole mile home.

When she reached the house, light still sneaked between the cracks of the shutters on the windows of the main room, but the bedroom windows were black. Either nobody was in the room or Daddy'd already put the little girls to bed. Her heart pounding, she crept up to the house. When she stood beneath the window, she heard her folks and sisters singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” She smiled. The bedroom was empty.

Using an upside-down barrel as a step, she managed to boost herself up high enough to grab the window ledge. Then she pulled herself in and fell onto her bed. The springs twanged something awful, but her family was singing loud enough to cover claps of thunder. Nobody came to investigate.

She breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled out of her dress. She wadded it up and shoved it under the bed, then felt her way to the bureau for a nightgown. On tiptoe, she returned to the bed and reached to turn down the covers. Her fingers encountered damp fabric. She huffed. As she'd feared, rain had come through the open window and dampened both pillows and the edge of the quilt. She chewed her thumbnail for a minute, thinking. Then she turned the pillows over and flipped the quilt the opposite way. Now Della wouldn't notice. Giggling at her cleverness, she started to climb into bed.

But she remembered her muddy feet. She shouldn't muck up the sheets. Cringing, she pawed under the bed until she found her discarded dress. She used it to clean the worst of the mud. As she picked out the hardening clumps from between her toes, she remembered Nick picking hay from her hair. She'd better give it a good brushing.

While her family sang “Am I a Soldier of the Cross?” Cissy whacked the hairbrush through her straight tresses. By the end of the second verse, she'd removed every tangle and, hopefully, every tiny evidence of hay. She returned the brush to the bureau top and turned for the bed, but a need struck. She should've visited the outhouse before she came in.

Holding her breath, she eased the bedroom door open. She waited until Mama caught her eye. Then she clamped her knees tight and mouthed,
I gotta go.
Mama nodded, so Cissy scurried across the floor and out the back door while Daddy and the children kept singing. The sliver of moon seemed to smile in the blue-gray sky, and she paused long enough to smile back. That old moon would keep secret where she'd been today.

She finished her business, then held her gown high and crossed the yard in a dozen leaps. As she entered the house, Daddy was praying, so she stopped and bowed her head.

“Give us a good night o' rest, our dear an' lovin' Father, an' wake us in the mornin' ready to do Your biddin'. Strip us of any desire to be displeasin' in Your sight.”

Cissy gulped. She sneaked a look at her father. Heat attacked her face when she realized he was looking at her.

His eyes snapped closed. “These things I pray in Jesus's name. Amen.”

“Amen,” the little girls echoed.

“Bed now,” Mama said. “Sleep good, gals.”

“Sleep good, Mama. 'Night, Daddy.”

Cissy stayed put until all the little girls said their good nights, kissed Mama and Daddy, and scampered into the bedroom. Then she started to follow.

“Cissy?”

Her heart skipped a beat. She sent an uneasy look in Daddy's direction. “Yes, sir?”

“Tomorrow's a new day. A new start. Slate's wiped clean.”

She nodded.

“Sleep good now, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” She darted into the bedroom and closed the door. Safe, she leaned against the thick planks and stared in wonder at the gaping window. She'd got by with it. She'd sneaked out, stolen a few minutes with Nick, and made it back without anybody knowing. The relief melted her bones. She slid down the wall and sat there, smiling.

“Cissy, what're you doin'?” Tabitha put her hand on her hip and gave Cissy a saucy look.

Cissy kicked at her. Not hard, just enough to make her jump away. “Never you mind. Get ready for bed now, all o' you. Summer's here. Chores'll be waitin' in the mornin'.”

She snuggled into the bed and rolled to her side with her face to the wall. She smiled. Summer was here, all right, but there was more than chores waiting for her. Nick was waiting.

The next day at lunchtime after a morning in the field, Daddy told Cissy she could keep working for Mr. Temperance. “But one more time of comin' in after dark an' that job'll be done. I won't have you worryin' your mama again. You understand me, gal?”

Cissy promised, inwardly grinning. Daddy forgot that with summer the days stretched longer. If she could stay out until the edge of dark, she'd have at least two hours with Nick every day after she finished posing with Beau. She told Nick as much when he came to the barn Monday.

“That's wonderful, Cissy. It'll be the best part of my day.”

Her heart pat-patted so fast she marveled that it stayed in her chest. They sat in the barn and talked the hours away, and right before they parted, Nick gave her the photograph of him with his arm around her.

Looking at the image of them standing so close made her all fluttery inside. Her flutters got worse when he whispered, “Keep it in a safe place, a secret place.” She tucked it in her bodice right over her heart.

Tuesday they went walking in the hills behind the estate. When the path was wide enough for them to walk side by side, Nick held her hand. The rest of the time he led, glancing back every few seconds as if making sure she was still behind him, still doing all right. She felt secure, cherished, special with him. And even more special when, at the end of their walk, he gave her a green agate he'd dug from the ground on an excursion with his brother and told her to think of his eyes when she looked at the stone.